


Just as Wild

by Tabithian



Series: Light the Path [49]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8145109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: "Oh come on, that vase is clearly late 18th century Wedgwood!"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: "Oh come ON, that vase is clearly late 18th century Wedgwood!" from Aniseandspearmint on Tumblr.

If Jason had known this is how things would end up, he would have kept his mouth shut when he ran into Tim the other night. 

But no, no, the little shit had looked miserable and that little voice in the back of Jason's head that sounds suspiciously like Alfred had _tsked_ disapprovingly at him, and that had been the end of that.

So now he's stuck with a house guest who's managed to catch the meanest cold Jason's ever seen for the foreseeable future. (And oh, hadn't he gotten on Tim's case when Dick had let it slip there might be a spleen-shaped reason as to why it's hitting the little shit so hard.) 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jason asks, even though he knows he's going to regret it. 

Tim has what looks like every blanket and pillow Jason has arranged on the couch in a cozy little nest, and he's glaring at the television ass though it's personally offended him.

“That!” Tim says, waving a hand at the television. “The man's a hack, anyone with eyes could tell what that is!”

It comes out garbled and really just a mess with the way Tim's nose is stuffed up and his voice is wrecked from the coughing he's been doing, but the indignation comes through nice and clear.

Slowly, carefully, Jason takes his eyes off Tim and focuses on whatever Tim's been watching. It's some kind of exhibit hall, people milling around in the background of the shot, examining various...thing on display and providing a low murmur of sound. 

There's also a guy in a bland little suit talking about some bot of pottery on a stand in a calm, soothing voice. The sort that never fails to set Jason's nerves on edge because it's just a little too calming, a little too soothing. (You learn to keep an eye on that kind of shit in Gotham.)

“You're getting worked up over pottery?” Jason asks, looking back at Tim who looks back, fingers playing with the fringe on one of the blankets. “There a reason why?”

Tim's eyes slide away from his, and Jason wants to, really he does, let it go, but Tim's going to pick that poor blanket to shreds at this rate.

“Tim?”

Tim doesn't answer right away, not like Jason thought he would, with the way he's acting, which is fine. Jason loves listening to the eerily soothing voice of the guy on the stupid show babbling about another antique someone brought in to be appraised, really he does. 

“My mom,” Tim says, eyes darting up to Jason and away again. “She had a collection.”

Well, fuck.

Tim's not meeting his eyes, isn't even picking away at the poor defenseless blanket, and Jason's not cut out for this shit. Just really, really not.

Which, _tough_ , because here's Tim. This absolute idiot who may or may not be dying from his stupid cold yelling at some guy on the television who can't do his damn job right, because Tim's mom had a _collection_.

There's so much there Jason doesn't want to go anywhere near, but - 

“So what did he get wrong?” Jason asks. 

Tim looks up at him, like he's trying to decide if Jason's legitimately curious, or just humoring him, which is fair given their relationship up to this point. (Tim's a delight to mess with at any other time, he really is.)

“Uh, it's.” Tim squints at Jason, still unsure if he's being set up. “It's complicated?”

Jason snorts, because that much is obvious, and drops down on the couch next to Tim, reaching out to yank that damn blanket out of Tim's hands before he mangles it beyond recognition.

“Enlighten me then,” Jason says. “Tell me all the ways that guy is full of shit.”

Tim makes this horrible noise that takes Jason a moment to realize is what would usually pass as that half-annoyed, half-amused huff he does. 

“When did you take your cold medicine last?” Jason asks, and ignores the look Tim gives him because no, _no_ , Jason is not a nag about it, fuck off already.

“Jason - “

Jason shoves a pillow in Tim's face and goes for the cold medicine laid out all nice and neat on the side table for idiots with no self-preservation instinct to speak of because Jason may be an idiot, but hes not stupid enough to get on Alfred's bad side in this, God no. (He learned that particular lesson years ago, thanks.)

“Shut up and take your poison, then you can tell me what that idiot got wrong,” Jason says, simple, straightforward, because Tim's a little slow sometimes. Doesn't get that people mean it when they say something. “Sound good?”

Tim pulls the pillow down and looks at Jason. 

Jason waggles the bottle of cough medicine at Tim, eyebrow raised, and after a moment Tim sighs, this rough, spluttering thing that hurts to hear.

“If you're trying to kill me, there are more humane ways.”

Hilarious, really. (If Jason was trying to kill the little shit, Tim would know. None of this long drawn-out poison bullshit, no.)

“You'd think,” Jason agrees. “But not as fun.”

That earns him a scowl, and okay, this. This is somethinng Jason can work with. (And who knows, being able to identify 18th century pottery might come in handy one day.)

**Author's Note:**

> *hands*


End file.
